A Publication of the Coalition on Homelessness
When Mayor London Breed submitted her budget to the Board of Supervisors on June 1, it had many problematic elements, but one in particular stood out for the Coalition on Homelessness: The mayor’s plan would raid $60 million from youth and family housing to pay for short-term housing, subsidies, shelter and other temporary funds for adults.
While visiting a tiny home site, Mayor Breed announced her plan that she wanted to fund shelter beds for unhoused San Franciscans.
by Jennifer Friedenbach
Mayor London Breed announced plans last month to fund shelter for unhoused San Franciscans. What the mayor did not mention was where that funding would come from. The Coalition on Homelessness supports the plans to replace and continue the announced 594 beds, not just for two years but permanently, and at the same time vehemently opposes that same plan to pay for some of these adult beds by gutting housing for homeless youth and families in Proposition C.
by Ian James, Yessica Hernandez and Migeul Carrera
The Oasis Inn family shelter once again sits empty, after the building’s owners decided to allow its lease with the City of San Francisco to expire at the end of January. The Oasis Inn provided shelter to dozens of unhoused pregnant people and families, including families fleeing domestic violence.
The City’s lease was originally scheduled to expire at the end of December.
Less than two weeks before the planned closure of a shelter for unhoused families, housing and homelessness advocates converged on the steps of San Francisco City Hall to protest the Oasis Inn’s December 15 closing date. The demonstrators—many of whom live at the Oasis and are facing imminent displacement—demanded that the City move to buy the building in the Cathedral Hill neighborhood, while also calling on the Oasis’s owners to sell the property to the City or a prospective nonprofit contractor at the December 6 action.
My name is Samel Leparan Ntiwuas. I live just down the street from the house where I grew up.
I grew up in Oakland and San Francisco. My folks succeeded in their own ways, at one point owning a home, which was once considered the very foundation of financial stability. Then, when life chose to give me a bitter test, I joined the surging number of unsheltered immigrant people who spill out around freeways,
Don’t Wait Until We Break!
On Wednesday May 4, homeless and formerly homeless moms, children, and individuals converged on San Francisco’s City Hall to deliver one message, loud and clear: “Our mothers need housing.” The action was designed and carried out by unhoused members, mostly moms. In planning the action, they talked about how being homeless is literally breaking their mental health and came up with the slogan “Don’t Wait Until We Break”
Age-old sayings tell us to save “mothers and children first” in any crisis or catastrophe.
Four walls. A roof. Doors that can be locked with a key. These are things that provide you with security, safety and stability when you’re housed. It’s easy to take these feelings for granted. I sure did until I lost my housing, and I had to struggle to keep my security, safety and stability in my newly unhoused state.
Now, imagine if you’re trying to avoid some asshole who’s harassing or bullying you,
In 2011, I was homeless and addicted to methamphetamines. That year, I found out that my girlfriend of 10 years, Amy, was pregnant with our son, Marley. We went to Jelani House, a rehabilitation program, to try to prepare for our son’s arrival. But when we showed up, the shelter wouldn’t let me bring my service dog inside. Instead, I had to stay on the street and try to get clean alone while taking care of our dogs,
Content warning: The stories throughout this issue may be especially activating for some readers. Many of these pieces involve descriptions of traumatic experiences including sexual violence, domestic violence, sexual exploitation, queer/transphobic violence, in addition to the violence of states and false borders.
I came to the United States five years ago from Uganda with an invitation from my husband who had secured a visa a few years back. My husband and I were both brought up at a children’s home in Kampala.
Content warning: The stories throughout this issue may be especially activating for some readers. Many of these pieces involve descriptions of traumatic experiences including sexual violence, domestic violence, sexual exploitation, queer/transphobic violence, in addition to the violence of states and false borders.
The rate of homelessness in San Francisco is currently alarming and it’s quite unfortunate that I have been a victim of it. My name is Jocey, a 28-year-old divorcee,
